My little Grey Warden
by Darcy Lovette
Summary: Doran was cursed, suffering a fate worse then death... being in love. His desire for Alistair, his fellow Grey Warden had consumed him, it was driving him mad like an unquenchable thirst. He suffers in silence day after day, finding only some relief in the "company" of Zevran...
1. Chapter 1

As the sun settled, painting the sky a beautiful orange, I allowed myself to rest under a large oak, my body entangling within the grass. The day had been long, we had been travelling since dawn and yet still no sign of any Dalish Elves. The blight was constantly at our heals, reminding us of it's over bearing presence through Darkspawn ambushes and crippling nightmares. So, hungry, exhausted and soaked in tainted blood, we agreed to make camp and close the distance in the morning.

I tore my gaze from the gorgeous sunset before me and directed it to my travelling party. Zevran was sat alone, running a stone repeatedly along the edges of his already razor sharp daggers, humming a tune from his hometown. Morrigan was making snide comments to Wynne concerning the circle and Alistair was defending her.

Alistair… such a funny name. A man trained in battle, a man who's taken down more Darkspawn then I can count, a man who maybe one day shall rule Ferelden as it's king… and yet, such a gentle, almost sweet name. Alistair… Alistair… roles off the tongue, really. I suppose it suits him, in a way. He was gentle (when he wants to be), he was sweet, he was a good man with a heart of gold who didn't deserve the pain he'd suffered his whole life.

…Oh, _great_, I'm thinking about him again…

The thought brought a great deal of sweet, hard, crushing pain to my chest, yet now that it was there it was impossible to concentrate on anything else. The colours of the setting sun reminded me of auburn locks, the grass shamed to grow upon the gaze of his piercing green eyes, the land… so dangerous yet gentle, fierce yet sweet, full of misery and torment yet with laughter and joy… just like him.

I loved thinking about Alistair… it fills my heart with a warm, soothing feeling. He had the ability to make me forget about everything; the Darkspawn, the civil war, the Blight. Yet sooner or later I awoke from the pleasant dream, and reality crushed my heart within its iron grip.

For the reality was that I loved Alistair, yet he could never love me back.

I was an elf; small, slender and with pointed ears. Don't get me wrong I was just as strong as any human, just as agile, just as smart, yet I would always be second class in the eyes of men. Alistair, (possibly one day _king_ Alistair) with something subhuman? Impossible…

The other reason being the Blight. Any day could be our last, every ambush, every battle; every unfriendly encounter could be the end of us. It was no time to be thinking about such things, not with death lurking around ever corner.

The other? Well… I am a man.

My name is Doran, I am a worrier, an elf and a Grey Warden, and I am forever plagued by a pain even worse then the blood of a thousand Darkspawn.

I rested the back of my head against the trunk of the tree; the soft moss that coated the tree provided excellent comfort. Thoughts of my fellow Grey Warden swam around my mind, like tiny fish in a small pond or a flock of birds. Not even the small chuckle from my left could awaken me from this trance.

"Well, enjoying the view, are we?" Came Zevran's smoky, musical accent.

It took me a few moments to respond and draw my gaze from the sunset once more, "Hmm?" I mumbled.

Zevran chuckled again, "The view, my red headed Grey Warden. She is beautiful, is she not?"

I glanced at the sunset, "Y-yeah… really beautiful." I nodded, sighing softly.

"Erm… perhaps you misunderstand me." Zevran struggled to hide the amusement in his voice. He knelt down, took my chin between his long fingers and gently turned it to the right. The view, it turned out, was a certain apostate undressing herself for a dip in a nearby pond. "Mmm…" he growled softly, "poisonous, like a ripe, succulent apple in the children's tales. So beautiful, so tempting… yet one bite…" He jerked my head back to face him, miming the sound of breaking bone. He laughed softly at my expression, giving the flesh on my jaw a quick squeeze before releasing me from his grip.

"That's not even remotely amusing, Zevran." I glared, crossing my arms and turning away.

"Aww, come come now, must a Blight really be all about the killing and the conflict and the seriousness?" He sat down beside me, nudging my leg with his, "Cheer up, my friend! Trust me, if I wanted to snap your neck," his fingers slithered up my arm, as softly as a warm summer breeze, "I would… it would be too easy." His voice dropped to a smoky whisper as his fingers moved closer and closer to my neck. His expression hardened, his fingers just ghosting over the crook of my unprotected neck. I almost believed he would do it… I was struck dumb by fear… until I spotted a smile spreading across his lips, "But that would be such a waste of a fine specimen such as yourself." He chuckled, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly against my cheek before resting his hands upon his lap.

"Don't make me regret sparing you, Crow." I glared, "I can easily change my mind."

Zevran looked mildly amused, "Now that I don't believe. In fact, I fear you may have grown… soft on me."

Within a flash of movement Zevran's back was firmly against the trunk, my dagger pressed against the soft flesh of his neck. "… Have I?"

Zevran chuckled again, looking up at me. "I would stand corrected, if it was not for the passion of which you moved in… I find myself in the most unlikely position to feel so… _aroused_."

"I will cut it off and feed it to Roux!" I hissed. My wardog would eat just about anything made of meat, yet this only made him chuckle more, it was infuriating!

"That has only made things worse… you are so accidentally sexy." He grinned, placing his warm palm upon my knee. I knew what he was doing… he was challenging me, to see if I would really kill him. My arm had frozen, as if locked into position. His palm crept ever-so-slowly up my thigh, his eyes burning into my own. I couldn't pull away… I couldn't push him away… couldn't sink my dagger into his throat. He massaged my thigh lightly, his fingers working their Antivan magic against me. His palm was so… warm.

I couldn't help it… seeing him with my dagger to his neck, completely at my mercy, yet he dared to slither his hand along my flesh. I, like Zevran, had found myself in the most unlikely situation to be aroused in. I saw the flicker of a grin before his hand moved over me, resting on my stomach for a moment. He was studying my face closely, watching my expression, watching for the slightest sign of disgust, anger, fear, or, god forbid, arousal. My features betrayed none of these feelings, but as Zevran's hand travelled downwards, something else did.

"Oh…" Zevran pawned against the hardening lump between my legs, "Now… _that_ is interesting."

We locked gazes, my dagger at his throat and his hand on my manhood. He knew now… the secret I had kept hidden all my life. The true reason I did not want to get married back at the Alienage. Kept hidden through lies, deceit and pure bad luck… and Zevran had uncovered it simply by touching me.

His other hand slid up my dagger arm, gripping my wrist and easing it away. The dagger fell from between my fingers and landed with a soft thump on the grass. His palm continued to rub my growing erection as he rose slowly, his eyes burning into mine. We both knelt, facing each other, my wrist in one hand and erection in his other.

"You… desire me, don't you?" he whispered, his accent dripping with his seductive charm. "I have seen it in your eyes… a desire for something… something strong, powerful… to wrap your legs around another man as fills you with himself… haven't you, my little Grey Warden?"

I couldn't stop myself. My eyes darted over to where Alistair stood, still quarrelling with Morrigan. None of them had even noticed we were gone. Zevran noticed, turning his head in the direction of my glance. "Is… he the one you desire?" he asked, turning to face me again, his eyes… unreadable.

I shook my head, "No…" I lied.

"Then… let me take you into my tent, Grey Warden. Let me… ravish you. You will see the face of the Maker… when you are filled with me." He whispered, all the while his fingers left my wrist to caress my face, drifting softly over my lips.

"I-I…I…" I stammered in an attempt to protest. No… I couldn't… not Zevran. I wanted Alistair, I _needed_ Alistair. I couldn't… I couldn't…

"Shall we… retire to bed, then?" He smirked.

"I…"

"You desire Alistair?"

"N-no!"  
"Then why not, Grey Warden?"

Yeah… why not, Grey Warden?

Giving my love one last glance, I leaned down and pressed my lips against the assassins. They were firm, strong; they dominated my own as soon as they touched them. Hidden from sight by the oak, Zevran held my by the waist and pressed me down firmly against the trunk, his hands exploring and dominating my body as his lips did my own. I felt like a complete fool, with no idea where to put my hands or anything. Luckily Zevran was so experienced. His hands tangled in my hair, then moved my own to his long, blonde locks whilst he slid his fingers up and down the crook of my back.

When we were bored of kissing (by this time our party had long since retired to bed without wondering where we were), Zevran escorted me to his tent and laid me down upon the bed.

It was almost exactly as Zevran had promised. I wrapped my legs around his strong form as he entered me, filling me completely with himself. I felt things I never thought possible… Zevran had to press his hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming in ecstasy. When it ended, he whispered my name… and we drifted into sleep, our bodies entwined.

I'm glad be stopped me from screaming… for it was not Zevran's name I would have screamed.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Blood stained the grass as I wiped my sword against it, whilst my free hand wiped my brow clear of sweat. Around us lay about twenty Darkspawn, some headless, others simply gazing at the sun will cold, lifeless eyes. I noticed how the creature's eyes were no different to that of a live one. Their eyes were cold, soulless, filled with nothing but an evil desire to spill the blood of the innocent. Even in death you couldn't wipe the evil grin from their faces… those that still had their faces anyway.

I glanced over at my travelling party; Alistair too was cleaning the blood from his sword whilst our accompanying magi and apostate tended to their wounds. Zevran, however, seemed to be having a bit of trouble getting his sword out of one of the Hurlocks.

"Zevran." Morrigan's cool tone mocked Zevran even before her words could, "'Tis is not expected of a Crow, an 'expert' in the art of assassination, to have mastered the ability to kill and flee into the shadows unnoticed? However, you appear to be floundering like an unblooded babe."

Zevran laughed through gritted teeth, still trying to work his sword from the body, "Ah, Morrigan… you are truly as witty and droll as you are beautiful."

"Yeah," grinned Alistair, "and as beautiful as she is kind, selfless and compassionate."

"My, Alistair, what a big word," said Morrigan, unphased, "for a moment you almost seemed… not a complete imbecile."

"What can I say? I aim to please." Alistair shrugged, giving her a goofy grin. My heart melted.

I found it unusual that Wynne had not scolded them for such childish behaviour, as she called it. I turned around to find her examining the creature of which Zevran could not remove his sword from. "This is most unusual…" she murmured, more to herself then us.

"What? That a band of Darkspawn would attack a Grey Wardens' party or Alistair is not an imbecile?" Asked Morrigan, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Personally I find the latter nothing short of-"

"The armour…" Wynne ran her withering fingers around the area the dagger was embedded, "… Alistair? What do you notice about this?"

Alistair bent down beside her (after giving each of us a thoroughly confused look), and he too ran his fingers along the breastplate, "It's definitely Darkspawn made, Wynne. Nothing out of the… wait…" Suddenly Alistair gripped the pommel and gave it an almighty tug, nothing happened. He tried again, and again, but the dagger would not budge. "Maker's breath…" he whispered, "I should have known…"

It was me, Zevran and Morrigan's turn to exchange confused looks.

"What's the problem?" I asked, "What's wrong with the armour?"

Wynne rose from the ground, leaning against her staff, "It's been enchanted." Her voice was grave and worried, "I remember the battle at Ostagar… when a blade pierces the steal it almost immediately… _heals_ itself, sometimes around the blade. Giving dead, cold metal the ability to heal as a living thing could… _very_ dark magic, indeed. The Darkspawn would enchant their armour with this spell before battle and only then… but to enchant the armour with such a dangerous, difficult spell for a wood patrol?" She shook her head slowly, "Not even the Archdemon would waste blood magic in this way."

"Clearly, they're not just a simple patrol sent to kill anything they find," explained Alistair, "They're in these woods for a purpose. A dangerous, important purpose."

"I fear our encounter with these particular creatures was no coincidence." Said Wynne, "A group of Darkspawn on an important mission which crosses the path of two Grey Wardens, also on a mission directly within these woods?"

I considered what she had said for a moment, "… You think that they had been sent just to kill us?"

"It's a possibility we can't rule out," agreed Alistair, "remember the Darkspawn and the Archdemon can sense us just as much as we can sense them. If they can pinpoint our exact location like this…" his voice trailed off, his eyes filling with unmistakable worry.

"We may be leading a horde of Darkspawn right to the Dalish." Said Wynne.

Morrigan stepped forward suddenly, "If I may share my opinion on the situation…"

"You? Wanting to give your opinions whether we asked for them or not?" Alistair feigned shock, "Whatever next? Birds flying? Grass growing? Zevran flirting?"

Morrigan ignored him, "It seems that whatever is pursuing us will surely be on much higher alert after the botched attempt made moments ago. If they plan to strike again it will be with much more stealth… we may never see them coming until it is too late. So I propose we continue on our way as before. When our pursuers see we are in the mists of a Dalish clan, they will either retreat or attack. If they attack whilst we are within the clan, our chances of victory are almost certain."

"Yes…" Alistair spoke up, "all very well and good, Morrigan, but what about the Dalish? We cannot lead a horde of Darkspawn into their camp whilst they are so unprepared, innocents will die."

"Forgive me, but I assumed we were in a Blight, are we not?" Morrigan returned his glare, "Innocent people have and will perish long before this is over, and many more will unless we have the Elves on our side. It really is the only reasonable option."

Alistair opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it was futile, we all knew Morrigan was right. "Alright… I just don't like the way you talk about the lives of the innocent, as if they're not imp-"

"_Hang on_!" Suddenly, something hit me. Morrigan was right; they _had_ made a total mess out of their ambush. If they knew where we were, and were here for the soul purpose of killing us… they would have been prepared. They howled as they spotted us, fumbling with their weapons as they ran towards us. Even a group of Darkspawn know how to spring an ambush. No… killing us wasn't the real reason they were in this woods. Wynne was right; crossing paths with them wasn't a coincidence. They were on the same path as we were, with the same intentions. To find the Dalish clan.

"Of course!" Breathed Alistair as I explained my idea, "They were following the path to find the Dalish, spotted us and thought it was their lucky day! They'd surely know that the Dalish would aid us in battle, they always had!" he punched his own palm in enthusiasm, "They planned to ambush them before they could expect it, so we'd be less prepared for battle!"

"This certainly is the only explanation to all the evidence." Agreed Wynne, "The armour, the botched ambush, the chance crossing…"

"We must find the Dalish before the Darkspawn, to warn them and help defend them." Nodded Alistair. "Doran, you beautiful man, I could _kiss_ you!" he laughed, swinging his shield onto his back and setting back on the path, Wynne and Morrigan following in tow. I travelled at the back, my face blushing and my heart fluttering like a moth trapped in an ale glass.

Then from behind us, "Erm… Wardens? Dear Mages… _I still need my dagger!_"

A few nights later we made camp within the forest, as far away from the Dalish as we could get. As it turned out another horde of about thirty-forty Darkspawn were on their way to ambush the Dalish. Fortunately, we warned them with just enough time to spare. We had our own ambush; archers hid in the tree tops and showered them with arrows before the rest of us tore down the remainders. They too were wearing enchanted armour. That, however was not the only problem facing the Dalish…

I didn't want to think about the ordeal… the death, the betrayal, the suffering… I was just glad it was over. We were one step closer to defeating the Blight for good.

It was dark before we had finished setting up camp; the cluster of trees that shielded us from view also shielded the moonlight, so we were as good as blind if not for the burning fire which illuminated the camp with its orange glow. I was on my knees, just adding the finishing touches to my own tent when I noticed a shadow looming over me,

"Such excellent handy work, my friend." Zevran's shadow nodded in approved.

"Thank you, Zevran." I muttered in reply. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him right now, or to anyone really.

That didn't stop his hand grazing softly against the back of my head, "Maybe… tonight we shall retire to _your_ tent instead, my little Grey Warden." Came his soft, seductive chuckle, before he walked away. My stomach twisted, I felt extremely nauseous. That night… when I had been ravished within Zevran's tent… it was not Zevran who ravished me. In my mind Zevran's hands had been Alistair's hands, Zev's lips were Alistair's lips, Zev's manhood was… well… I suppose I was feeling… guilty, in a way. Is there a shoddier way to insult a person then to think of another whilst making love to them? None came to mind… I felt like I had betrayed the man I had saved on that fateful journey to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes.

Dinner was served, but I had lost my appetite.

One by one, everybody retired to their tents. Except for me… I offered to keep watch (much to Zevran's almost well hidden disappointment), and Wynne.

She took a seat beside me as a prodded the burning fire with a large stick, wearing the grandmotherly expression I'd seen her give Alistair and Morrigan when they quarrelled like children, "… You know, I've seen a lot of suffering in my time." She spoke softly, resting a hand on top of mine, "but there is no sight which breaks my heart more… then to see a young man tortured by love."

I stared at her, my heart doing back flips. "What… wha-what…"

"Now dear, I've seen it. The way you look at him… the way you blush when he compliments you… the way your heart breaks when you realize he doesn't look at you the same way… and he never will."

There was no point in trying to argue with her, so I stayed quiet, hanging my head in shame.

"Oh, Doran… I'd be lying if I tried to tell you that a love like this will fade over time… and an even worse person if I told you there was hope between you and Alistair." She sighed softly, "I cannot pass judgement right now, nobody can ever be certain when it comes to love, especially an old fool like myself." She chuckled, and I couldn't hide a smile. "But I urge you… control these desires. One cannot hope to defeat a Blight when one's heart is heavy with rejection and heartbreak. Now is not the time for such risks, young one. I'm afraid you must accept the fact that you and the Warden Prince will never be more then an idle fantasy. Even if Alistair could feel the same about you… he has a kingdom to run. He cannot run it with you by his side, my child. A man… and an elf. I am sorry, Doran, but we are dealing with issues far greater then yourself, then any of us. You will either have your heart broken, or will force Alistair to choose between you and his responsibilities as Grey Warden… and heir to the throne. Do you understand, dear?"

I understood… I'd always understood… I just refused to believe it.

I was in love with a man who couldn't ever love me back, either because he simply didn't or couldn't afford to. My love for him was cursed from the start… never to be come true. A child's fantasy… no, a _fool_ child's fantasy.

I didn't know I was crying until the tears dripped from my cheeks to my lap.

"… I just love him so much." I whispered, my voice broken and croaky.

"I know you do…" Wynne whispered back. She gently pulled me into her and allowed me to cry, to sob like a baby into her shoulder. She patted my arm gently, whispering soothing things. Like the mother I never knew…

When I was done she handed me a clean rag, which I wiped my face with.

"There now, child. Now, I know this is hard but you must be strong, for all of us." She rubbed my shoulder, "Go to bed, dear, I shall take watch."

I sniffed, "No… you really don't have to…"

"I insist, dear, you clearly need a good night's sleep more then I."

I paused, and then nodded; crying had left my eyes heavy, "Thank you… Wynne… I mean it."

"I'm sure you do, and you need not thank me. Now goodnight."

"Goodnight…" I retired to my tent, and passed out almost as soon as my face hit the pillow, sinking into sleep and Darkspawn filled dreams.


End file.
